So, I'm feeling pretty okay about today. I suspect that this may have something to do with the fine products of a certain distillery concern located in Lynchburg, Tennessee (Pop. 361, as the label notes).

Because otherwise I'd be freaking broken, like everything else in my house: The refrigerator. My car. The vacuum cleaner. The kitchen sink. The dishwasher (sorta). Apparently the only thing holding this house together was my wife's presence.

So, the refrigerator is fixed, 263 dollars later. The vacuum cleaner I will see if I can deal with. I will call a plumber for the kitchen sink - while I am probably capable of fixing it, it's such a huge pain in the ass and in need of specialized tools that I'd rather just pay somebody. My car is fixed, it's just difficult to pick it up, but I should have the time on Monday afternoon. The dishwasher... will be okay. It still cleans things, just not as well as we'd like.

And the wife will be back on Friday. So there you have it.

We got *killed* on taxes. Again.

I know it's depressing but goddammit, I miss my mom.

Douchebaggery is rampant today.

Back to San Diego, anyway. It's been a bad sports day here, with the Chargers losing again and the Padres, who only needed to win or have Colorado lose to get into the playoffs, managing to lose while the Rockies won.

Perhaps it was punishment for this sad performance that made Southwest Airlines decide to punish those flying from Las Vegas to San Diego. No *other* flights were leaving late, and there were plenty of other planes apparently just waiting around, but no, we had to wait.

Not to make this into a giant flying misery story, because honestly the delay was not THAT bad, and it was a nice quick and easy flight back to SD. And anyway there's no shortage of those kinds of stories on the web. Probably just within the past week.

But I did want to note the reason we were given for the delay - "There's just too many flights and not enough gates." This leads me to believe that Southwest's managers and planners don't know how many gates there are. You'd think at some point they'd send somebody out to count them or something.

Anyway. Another damned early meeting tomorrow, followed by what will hopefully be a stress-free experience getting home on the train.

P.S: Vegas was fun! Woo!

We just had a fancy-ass new driveway gate installed. It's got an iron frame for stability and fancy-ass redwood planks for being purty. Of course, we have to either stain or paint the wood ourselves, and put on a sealer coat to protect the wood from water, but hey, it's Southern California, and it's September. No sweat! I was going to put on the stain and the sealer this weekend.

The installation was just finished two days ago. Tonight, it has begun to rain. Literally, within the last five minutes, it has begun to *seriously* rain.

Yes, I am a giant winner who may have wasted hundreds of dollars worth of wood. YAY!

I'm tired and cranky and I blame YOU. Yes, you.

Despite my wife's claims, whatever it is that has knocked us down the past few days is probably not salmonella, it's more likely to be a virus of some kind. We'll now for sure after the Niblet's tests come back from the lab in a day or so.

I think I'm coming out of it, but despite having eaten approximately 10 saltine crackers and a few spoonfuls of quinoa (plus drinking copious amounts of Gatorade) in the past 48 hours, I don't feel even remotely hungry. I wonder if I should.

So the Derby Doll bout on Saturday was fun, as usual. Unfortunately the wifey banged up her knee very badly. So I thought I'd be helpful and go in her place to help them tear down and pack up the track yesterday.

I am paying for that helpfulness now. Turns out it's not just a lot of work, it's incredibly difficult work. Right now I don't think I could hang onto a 3 lb weight for more than about 10 seconds, and my shoulders may never be the same.

Ah well. On the plus side, last night it looked like I was going to get the cold my wife brought home, but today it seems like I ducked it.

Back to the land of the living... Sorta. I'm still not 100%. But at least I can more or less function now, and am not coughing up my lungs every 2 minutes. I suspect it'll be the end of the week before I'm back to full normal, though. I have not been this sick in a long, long, time. Damn you, viruses!

I know you've all heard about what a hootin' hollerin' good time getting a viral infection in your lungs is, but don't fall for it. It's all lies and Big Virus propaganda.

After three days at home, though, I'm starting to come back to the land of the living. I expect that by Monday, it will no longer tire me out to, say, get up and walk to the bathroom.

Today is the Wednesday of Irritation.

So, tonight I had the sort of bizarre experience of meeting half a dozen people (all female) who had gone to elementary school, junior high, and high school with me. I'd lost touch with most of them through junior and high school, but I remembered most of them, but even the girls I didn't remember still remembered the hell out of me. Apparently, even back when I was 10 years old, I made an impression.

I really didn't know what to expect. One or two of them, as I recall, went on to become "bad girls" who went to Continuation School, instead of going to the normal high school with the rest of us. These days, they seem to be relatively stable folks, with husbands and kids and serious jobs.

The others are just as grown up, many of them also with husbands and kids and jobs and the like, so much so that at one point I exclaimed "when did you all turn into GROWNUPS?" I was only half joking, but it was greeted with much laughter.

But... well... when exactly *did* I turn into a grownup? The day I graduated high school? Surely not. The day I graduated college? Definitely not, because I don't even know the day - I didn't go, they sent me my degree in the mail. The day I was married? Possibly but there is evidence to suggest that not even then. The day my son was born? Mmmmmaybe. But perhaps not.

Hell, I don't even know if I *am* a grownup. I still don't really feel like one, even when I am disciplining my child. My mom and dad knew EVERYTHING and ALWAYS had the right answer when I was a kid - surely they weren't just making it up like I am, right? RIGHT? Right. Of course. You know how I know? Because my mom and dad are grownups. But I'm not.

I feel just fine, actually. A tiny bit sore, and I don't suppose I'll be chewing up CornNuts any time in the next few days, but I don't seem to need the Vicodin. And the bleeding seems to have entirely stopped. So. Huzzah!

However. I can recommend not getting a panic attack as someone is trying to put you under general anaesthesia. Just for future reference.

Or perhaps I am now less wise by 4 teeth. I'm kinda loopy right now, although not as loopy as I was when I first came out of the anaesthetic. And the first few faint stirrings from the back of the mouth are letting me know that while I may have been asleep during what happened back there, my gums most assuredly were not, and will be letting me know about it Real Soon Now. So I shall avail myself of painkillers and a bed and be back with you all... some time.